


The SyaoSaku Shenanigans

by RamblingPug



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: F/M, New Kinks, Powerplay, Sex Video, Some Bondage, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, Weddings, poor attempt at humour, syaosaku - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2311256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RamblingPug/pseuds/RamblingPug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary : Syaoran seems to have been harbouring a new fantasy of late. What happens when he lets it slip? Rated M for sexual content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The syaosaku sextape

Sunday mornings are always lazy.

Mornings in general, have always been lazy for Sakura, but on Sundays, Syaoran likes nothing more than to stretch with her and start off the day with a healthy, languorous tumble between the sheets.

Today is another one of those Sundays, and Syaoran sees no reason to break this beloved ritual, as he plays with her long fingers, kissing their tips one by one. She is spooned against him, this position no longer uncomfortable for him because he is quite accustomed to the fact that he will, without exception, wake to Sakura’s small, slender body pressed to him, impossibly hard and wanting.

But he can be patient sometimes and this is one of those times. He kisses his way up her back, knowing that she is fully awake and alert and has been for some time now, soft sighs escaping her subconsciously at his ministrations.  

His hands are splayed against her belly, making soft, caressing motions as his lips slip to her neck and came to rest on her collarbone, softly suckling.

“Mmm,” she mumbles, turning around to face him, slipping her legs between his, and kissing him. After all, there is only so long she can deny herself his mouth.

The kiss turns from zero to hot and passionate in a heartbeat, the lazy atmosphere dissipating only to be replaced by a crackling frisson between the lovers, leaving them panting for air as they surfaced.

Always amazed with the immediate and undeniable effect she has on him, he says, his thoughts still muddled with sleep, “We should videotape ourselves.” Without giving his own words much thought, he reaches back for her, eager to claim her mouth once more, caught up in the dizzying spell woven by her lips.

“What?”

“Huh?” Syaoran opens his amber eyes fully and sees his girlfriend sitting up straight on the bed, her hair sticking up in every possible direction, the strap of her white cami slipping down her shoulders, wearing what looked like a completely dumbstruck expression on her pretty features.

She looks at him curiously. “What did you just say?”

What _did_ he just say?

With great mental effort, he tears his eyes away from the tempting sight in front of him and tries to jog his memory. What could he have possibly said? They hadn’t really been talking just messing around and kissing and –

_OH._

Yes, the tiny moment of indiscretion where he blurted out a fantasy he had been harbouring for quite some days now.

The look of realization on his face is a comical mix of guilty and embarrassed and Sakura couldn’t help but notice how incredibly adorable, her shy Syaoran could be.

Owing to the awkward silence that ensued, Syaoran now wishes could just grab the words and stuff it back into his mouth.

“You want to... videotape us?” Sakura asks, slowly.

He nods, his face rivalling that of a tomato.

“Having sex?” Her tone is completely incredulous and having her repeat his questions wasn’t really helping him forget his tiny moment of stupidity. Their morning had started off so great, just the kind of mood that he absolutely relishes on his lazy but he just had to go and fuck it up with his carelessness.

“You know what, just forget about it, he mumbles, turning her around, away from him. He buries his face in her hair and kisses her lightly on the head, circling his arms around her.

She knows what he is trying to do, and she isn’t going to fall for it. “Tell me more about this video you have in mind,” she says, shivering because his lips are now on her neck, doing absolutely _evil_ things in order to make her forget and change the topic.

“There’s nothing to say, love. It was a stupid suggestion.” His voice is now a soft, silky murmur and it always has the most profound effect on Sakura, reducing her to a completely empty-minded, hedonistic state, where there is nothing she is aware of but him.

The voice, his hands gentle caressing her hips as he speaks to her, his mouth kissing and nibbling on her pale skin… she knows what he is leading up to. Smart boy, this one.

Shaking herself out of her almost jelly-like reverie, she says, keeping her voice as flat as she possibly can, “You’re using your sex voice, Syaoran. To distract me.”

Despite himself, he bursts out laughing. He moves away to face her. “What the hell,” he asks, in between laughs, “is a sex voice?”

“It’s that voice you use when you try to seduce me, ofcourse,” she states, matter-of-factly. “It’s soft and low, and sort of murmur-like and”- she dismisses, with a vague wave of her hand- “well, that’s not important right now.”

Seeing the amused twinkle in his amber eyes and that gorgeous smirk that foretold many delightful things to come, she concurs that it might not, in fact, be a bad idea to have such a beautiful being on camera.

 “So,” she pipes up, “About our porn video,” looking absolutely gleeful having witnessed the blush that spread on Syaoran’s face.

Despite all his teasing and playfulness, he is so easily embarrassed and Sakura feels a slightly smug sense of satisfaction knowing that she is the cause of it.

“I haven’t really seen a porn video, you know,” she muses out loud.

“What,” he sputters, eyes popping with disbelief, keeping her an arm’s length away to make sure she is okay. “No way,” he says, shaking his head, “no normal individual with access to the internet, lives up to the age of 20 without having watched porn.”

_She has to be joking. Right?_

"But didn't anyone ever tell you about it?"

"Hmmm," she says, thinking about it for a moment. "Tomoyo did bring it up a few times, but I was never particularly interested. I've read all of Naoko's erotic novels, but I've never actually watched that stuff."

It was true, she has poured over tons of books telling tales of love that just couldn’t be, lovers whose passion was almost like flames that could never be extinguished, desire like the crazed thirst of a man condemned to wander the Sahara for his whole life… etc etc. Yes, she has read all of that stuff. But porn? She had just never gotten around to it.

Syaoran makes a face, thinking of all the things Daidouji would have attempted to make his girlfriend watch. "But HOW, Sakura?! I just don't get it! Weren't you ever curious as to how it all looked? I mean, how much can you tell from just reading about it?"

She looks at Syaoran and giggles. The poor boy looks absolutely bewildered. "I see your point, Syaoran, but I didn't want the first penis I ever see, to be a random guy's penis. It should be my boyfriend's right?"

For all her shyness in bed, Sakura can be absolutely blasé when it comes to talking about sex. Especially with words like “penis” which she keeps throwing around so casually without paying any heed to how he cringes every time.

“Now that we’re past all that, I’m totally open to witnessing random penises!” she finishes, on an excited note.

_WHAT?_

It takes a second for the words to ring in her own ears and to spot Syaoran’s ill-concealed look of horror, to realize how grossly misinterpreted her previous statement was.

Giggling, she says, “I meant I’m ready to watch porn now.”

He doesn’t really understand the point of all this. A large reason as to why boys (well Syaoran, at least) watch porn, is because it is a learning experience. You know, so that you know how to please a girl and don’t end up fucking up your first time. (Aside from the obvious reason of raging hormones and masturbation needs, of course.)

Sakura, he vouches, is already a _very skilled_ lover.

“Um,” he says, watching her turn on his laptop, “there’s really no need, Sakura.”

“No, I insist. Show me something you like.” Those emerald orbs are gazing up at him so earnestly, as if asking him to watch porn with her is the most natural thing in the whole world. How the hell is he supposed to say no?

"I have just one more question,” she starts, somewhat timidly this time, “Why did you need this… video?”

It is a valid enough question. Sakura had practically moved in with him ever since they came to Tokyo to attend university. He has enough trouble keeping his hands off her gorgeous body, the last thing he has time for is to get off to a video of the both of them going at it.

Except, of course, when his devious mother calls him to Hong Kong to spend almost every single holiday break, _without fail. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she’d say gleefully, watching Syaoran scowl at her._ Even two weeks without her seemed an eternity and the nights especially, were long and lonely without Sakura’s lithe body to curl up next to him.

It was this candid thought that brought him to blurt out that awkward question. Yes, he feels like a sleazy, perverted old geezer for admitting it, but he likes to watch her when they have sex. The very sight and sound of her is just beautiful.

Idly, he searches for a porn site which would have slightly less scarring advertisements and pop ups. Seeing that they all seem equally filthy, he clicks on one at random.

Sakura peers at the screen while it loads. “Syao, why is a porn site named after a hamster?!”

She looks so genuinely baffled, that he can’t help but chuckle. Yes, he is going to burn in hell for this.

“Just come here.” He pulls her onto his lap and places a brief kiss at the side of her jaw. “I don’t know why I’m even doing this,” he mutters, nuzzling her neck.

She secures his arms around her and turns her face to look back at him. “If we have to videotape ourselves, I need to know the dynamics of how this works!” Her face was a contagious mix of excitement and determination.

He can’t help but smile at her. _It’s probably illegal to be this innocent. “_ There are no dynamics to all this,” he murmurs, his breath tickling her skin. “We just do what we always do, except a camera will be recording it.”

“Do you think we should get Tomoyo to film this or something? She’s really good!”

“Alright, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” he says, absolutely scandalized at her suggestion. In all honesty, he’d prefer Daidouji never even heard about this. She and Eriol would _never_ let them live this down.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he picks out the shortest video he can find. 11 minutes and 52 seconds. _Yosh, let’s get this over with._

“Sexy blonde bangs boyfriend on the couch,” she reads, clearly unimpressed with the title. “Sheesh, couldn’t they come up with anything slightly more creative?”

Holding back his laughter, Syaoran just gives her a light squeeze and says, “Look it’s starting.”

The screen rolls out with a tall skinny woman, sauntering towards the couch, pulling her lover along with her and her _huge_ breasts in tow. They are roughly the size of Sakura’s birthday balloons.

Syaoran, more interested in Sakura’s reaction, watches Sakura’s jaw practically drop to the floor in shock. “Those things, they’re…” she stutters, clearly at a loss of words. 

“Not real?” he offers, amused.

“They’re _enormous.”_ She gulps. “Do you like them that big, Syaoran?” she asks nervously. She prided herself on maintaining her athletic, perfectly toned body but she wasn’t particularly well-endowed in the upper region and that remained a nagging source of insecurity of her.

Catching on to the unsurety in her voice, Syaoran moves his hands up, to caress the exposed skin at her waist. His lips move up to her ear, his teeth grazing her lobe just so, as he murmurs, “I like yours the best.”

Flushed at the immediate effect his proximity has on her, she decides to try and move on and focus on the video. After all, she _is_ supposed to be paying attention.

“Her hair is definitely fake,” she states. It was probably true. The female on the screen was your atypical pornstar. Platinum-blonde, skinny, unhealthily large breast enlargements, pufferfish lips, and an ass she jiggled around _way_ more than what was necessary.

Briefly, Syaoran wonders how he had ever found this stuff arousing.

On screen the man had joined her on the couch now, and was pawing away at her melons, evoking unnaturally loud grunts from her. “This,” Sakura says pointedly, “is fake too,” referring to her exaggerated ‘orgasmic’ noises.

Syaoran had never thought of that before. “How can you tell?”

Sakura looks at him like the answer is apparently obvious enough for him to figure out. “Syao, _every_ woman knows what a fake orgasm is like.”

This was news to him. And news he would rather not learn of. He doesn’t even want to ask about how Sakura, his innocent little girlfriend who had never even watched porn, knows so much about faking orgasms.

“Besides no one is _that_ loud!”

To this, Syaoran had to laugh. That woman has nothing on Sakura. There were so many times when he would literally have to muffle her screams of pleasure with his mouth, just to keep Tomoyo and Eriol from hearing.

“You’ll know when you see our video,” he says with a smirk.

She doesn’t say anything and resumes watching the video with a determined look on her face. _It doesn’t matter what she looks like,_ she thinks, _this is purely educational._

Some time later, Syaoran realizes that Sakura has suddenly gone quiet and he follows her gaze to the screen.  

_The man had now gotten down on to his knees, and had started fingering her._

He can feel Sakura fidgeting on his lap. Tightening his arms around her, he can see her shifting uncomfortably now, a pinkish hue starting to spread on her face as her dilated emerald gaze stared intently at the screen.

_He was going down on her._

“Sakura,” Syaoran whispers, his mouth curving at the shell of her ear, grazing it with his lips. He could swear he just heard a faint gasp. “Is this… exciting you?”

She doesn’t answer. She shifts again and this time he feels something slightly damp brush his legs.

He gets his answer.

It doesn’t help that her ass is pressed against his lap and every time she shifts her weight, it only serves to increase the building pressure against the crotch of his jeans that will soon be very hard to ignore.

He reaches out and catches her hand as it attempts to brush against her shorts. “What are you trying to do?” His tone is teasing, playful. Of course he knows what she is trying to do.

Reluctantly she tears her eyes away from the screen and looks at him. She wears a guilty, embarrassed expression, like a child caught trying to steal candy. And Syaoran definitely isn’t going to let her have _that_ candy.

He slips his hand into the waistband of her shorts and traces slow, deliberate circles over the fabric of her dampening panties.

“Is this what you wanted?” This was the ‘sex-voice’ Sakura had been talking about. It is low, hoarse, and flows along deliciously to places where she craves his touch.

“Syao.” Her voice comes out strangled. He can feel her breathe faster as she presses her back against him. Her face is flushed, mouth parted, an irresistible invitation that his eager mouth is only too happy to accept.

Her hand covers his, pressing it against herself, craving more pressure. She pushed his hand downward, guiding it to that central place that aches for him.

“Touch me,” she whispers, as his hands make their way under her panties, caressing the smooth flesh before finding her nub and rubbing.

She almost sighs with relief, arching against him, as he dipped his finger into her folds. He likes the small pleading noises she makes when he touches her. Like she is being held captive by her own pleasure.

“Look at you, Sakura,” he whispers, hoarsely, “So ready.”

Her hands reach out frantically for him, moaning in protest as he pulls his fingers out of her. He shifts her so she lies on the bed, hovering over her for a moment, drinking in the sight of his aroused girlfriend, her legs spread slightly, her chest moving with her shallow breaths.

He moves down and kisses her, full on the mouth, his tongue exploring every crevice as her hands thread into his hair and angled him closer, demanding more.   

His hands move shamelessly higher higher, under the flimsy white cami, roughly pulling it off. “I don’t really like big ones, Sakura,” he murmurs, palming her breasts. “Yours are so perfect for me.”

That tinge of insecurity wasn’t lost on him while they were watching the video earlier.

Her body is perfect and he intends to show her just how much he appreciates it.

She blushes. She can never quite get used to Syaoran’s open adoration of her body. His mouth trails  kisses from her collarbone to the valley between her breasts as he squeezes them, sending jolts of pleasure that spirals through her body.

“Syaoran,” she manages, her voice a complete stranger, “You forgot about the- OH”- she gasps loudly as he takes a nipple into his mouth- “the video.”

He stops his ministrations abruptly and looks at her.

“You should set up the camera,” she mumbles shyly.

He couldn’t believe his ears. The very idea of having her on camera was impossibly exciting. But her asking for it? This is something new he can add onto his already existing loooong list of kinks he has for Sakura.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks. He doesn’t want her to feel pressurized into something she doesn’t want to do, but he can’t help his excitement nonetheless.

“I”- her voice drops to a low whisper- “Want to watch you make love to me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Syaoran clambers to the edge of the bed and fishes out his phone, hot blood rushing to the nether regions of his body. Swiftly, he angles it in what seems to be the best position and looks through the camera to check.

“You don’t have to take _that_ long to adjust the camera, you know,” she calls, her voice almost a whine. She is naked and impossibly aroused and despite having asked to him set up the camera, she wants him back, pressed up against her, doing those delightfully sinful things to her.

But he takes a moment to appreciate the view anyway. “Syaoran,” she calls impatiently, rolling on to her side and lifting her head up, giving possibly one of the best poses a model could give, her pert breasts and aroused nipples on full display.

He inhales sharply, quickly shedding his clothes and stalking back to her with the grace of a tiger hunting its prey.

Sakura looks at the camera nervously, wondering how she would look on screen. Especially next to a boy as good-looking as Syaoran.

“Don’t focus on the camera, Sakura.”

It is a command, as though he can read her mind, and she looks up at him, anticipation almost palpable in the air, engulfed in Syaoran’s looming shadow.

She looks into those amber eyes, filled with licentious promise, and subconsciously licks her lips. Syaoran could feel himself twitch in response.

He kisses her, hard and fast, stealing the wind from her lungs. She likes how he is all hands-and-mouth everywhere, eager and demanding, like he can’t make up his mind where to kiss her. So it’s simple, she guides him to her wanton breasts, aching for their share of his attention, which he so gladly gives.

She isn’t going to wait today. She doesn’t want his usual slow seduction and his expert foreplay. His kisses, his hard body, and the perverse thought of seeing him do all those things to her _on camera,_ had already made her quite ready. In fact, ready was an understatement. She was about to combust.

She moves her hand down, long, dexterous fingers stroking at his erection, reveling in the strained groans that escape his throat.

He nips at her lips, catching onto what she was trying to do, as she pulls him close enough for him to come into contact with her slit. She is soft and warm, so very ready for him, that he almost lost his control right then and there.

Swearing softly, he runs his hands along the expanse of her lithe body, curving his hands around her ass, and pulling her hips to him sharply. No, he isn’t going to go along with what she has planned. There’s no rush. He is going to take his time with her delectable body and there is nothing she can do about it.

He takes her nipples between his teeth and tugs, flicking it with his tongue, enjoying her lustful irritation with him. “Stop toying with me, Syaoran,” she mutters, annoyed because it is pure torture to have a feel of his smooth, hard length beneath her while he slowly laves away at her breasts.

“Why not?” His salacious grin spreads on his handsome face. “You’re so much fun to play with.” He looks up at her from between her breasts and without warning thrusts his finger into her. It’s not enough for her, and she expresses it with her large, dilated eyes, the green turning darker with need as he eases his fingers in and out of her, pleased with her mewls of frustrated pleasure. Taking pity on her, he inserts another finger, kissing her mouth as it forms a luscious o-shape, her hands clutching his, urging him to move his hands faster.

And for the second time today, he abruptly retracts his hands and she almost _whines_ because Syaoran is being downright merciless today, taking her higher and higher and then cruelly vanishing.

He surveys his fingers, glistening with the evidence of her arousal and traces it on her lips. “Suck,” he says softly, and although she is taken aback at just what a kinky pervert her boyfriend is, she is also so turned on, she is beyond the point of no return.

So Sakura obeys.

She takes his fingers into her mouth, her tongue registering the sharp taste as she swirls her tongue around them, nipping at the pad of his fingertips.

  _Oh she could be a tease too._

Groaning, he opens his eyes only to be greeted with the sight of Sakura regarding him intently, emerald eyes greedily drinking up the sight of him aroused at the simple action of her sucking his fingers.

She likes this sight, she decides, as she pushes him down, surprising him. He had forgotten how quick she could be. She was an athlete after all.

She sat astride him, straddling his hips, a self-satisfied smirk playing out on her face, as she says, “Enough of your teasing, Syao.” She wraps her fingers around his length, giving the amount of pressure she knows he likes and strokes him, slowly at first and then faster, rubbing the head against her opening.

He swears as he mutters her name, the feeling of her wetness against his tip, simply too much for him to bear. He grips her hips painfully in an effort to bring her close as she whispers with just a hint of smugness, “See, it isn’t nice to tease people.”

“Sakura,” he groans, as she eases him in just till the tip, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of paradise. He mumbles an apology because he actually is sorry, he doesn’t know why he wanted to go slow, because all he wants right now is to bury himself inside her.

Sakura is having a hard time resisting because she wants it just as much as he does and she can feel herself relent to him, his hands squeezing her ass as he tries to slip into her.

She grinds down onto him, bending and giving him a quick kiss as she whispers, “Don’t make me wait, Syaoran.”

And he doesn’t. He drives into her, before the words barely escape her mouth, her last syllable a loud and incoherent cry as she is completely taken over by the exquisite fullness of having him inside of her.

He lets her set a slow, comfortable pace as she moves on top of him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she pulls him deeper and deeper with every thrust.

The sight of her, eyes half-closed, forehead glistening in sweat, mouth parted and panting with the growing coil of pleasure unwinding within her, is the reason he even floated this crazy idea and it makes him heavy-headed with desire.

Swiftly, he shifts her onto her back and thrusts into her again, harder this time, angling himself so that he can hit that spot that makes her cry out his name and she does, her voice strangled and needy, egging him to go faster. And as much as it excites him to have her on top, he likes the control this position brings, and the heady knowledge that he was making her want like this.

He squeezes her breasts as he increases the pace, matching her desperate pleas for him to go deeper, harder, gritting his teeth as he felt himself twitch, a tell-tale sign that he was close.

He pounds into her unceasingly, her loud moans of pleasure now reduced to desperate whimpers of his name as she bucks back in an attempt to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck,” he mutters hoarsely, as he feels her walls tightening around him, he wasn’t going to last long if she – “Oh, Syao, I- ” she moaned incoherently, arching her back off the bed as she went over the edge, waves of pleasure crashing into her as she is washed ashore.

Holding onto her hips, he quickens his pace, feeling his own impending release, gripping the sheets, as her violent orgasm pushes him to let go. He groans loudly, emptying into her as her body visibly relaxes, flopping back onto the bed and collapsing beside her.

Mind reeling from the peak she had just visited, she looks to her left blankly. She spots the laptop, a hundred naked women with graphically enlarged breasts staring at her in the face.

Her brain working much slower than usual, she finally remembers why those repulsive sites were open in the first place.

Curiosity getting the better of her, she rolls over on top of Syaoran. “Syao,” she says.

There is no response. This is what happens if you don’t make conversation after sex.

“Syaoran,” she says again, poking his ribs. “Mmm,” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist without opening his eyes. _Such a boy,_ she thinks, rolling her eyes.

“Syaoran, look at me!”

With great difficulty he opens his eyes to half-mast. “Yes, Princess?”

Blushing at the endearment, she says, “Let’s see what happened to our video!”

Syaoran blinks a couple of times, his brain taking some time to process this video his girlfriend was speaking of.

Oh, _that_ video.

Suddenly he is awake, powered by a mixture of curiosity and enthusiasm to see just how this scene would have played out on camera.

Sakura watches him as he gets out of bed and walks to the table where the camera was kept, curious, but still unable to move from her spot. Briefly, it occurs to her that Syaoran is so much more comfortable with his body than she is, clearly unaffected by the fact that she is shamelessly ogling him from behind. She, on the other  hand, has already hidden herself under the blanket.

He picks up the phone that was recording all this while and peers at it, trying to get his fuzzy brain to locate the video that had sparked off such an interesting morning.

“Hey,” she asks puzzled, seeing his face blanch, his eyes crinkling with irritation, running his hands through his hair like he always does when he’s most likely to have screwed up. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t believe this,” he mutters, walking over to the bed with his phone in hand. He felt too stupid to describe it in words. She should see it for herself.

She takes the phone, looking at the screen and it takes her a moment to understand what really happened. When she finally does, she bursts into laughter, burying her face in his chest, her peals of laughter resonating within him, till he can’t help but chuckle himself.

“I guess I forgot to hit the record button,” he admits sheepishly, feeling stupid and embarrassed at having talked her into the whole thing and goofing up in the very end.

Sakura looks up at him, his genuinely disappointed expression, making her want to jump him all over again. She throws her arms around his neck and levels with him, amusement glinting in her eyes. “We could just try again, you know.”

He is quick to catch on, the amorous lilt in her voice drawing him back to her despite his body’s half-hearted protests for rest.

_Oh yes, he wouldn’t mind playing this charade again._

* * *

*Post-sex ramblings*

Sakura : You know, if you're still not satisfied with it, we could always get Tomoyo to record us.

Syaoran : *groans* Go to sleep, love.


	2. The Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura gets Creative with her Valentine's Day present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for the ever-patient nutterbutterbisquit, who is probably fed up with me and my my procrastination by now, but I hope this story was worth the wait.. :S

The phone rings, once, twice and her hands twitch nervously. Her eyes dart from the imposing black box on screen to the buzzing device barely 5 inches from her foot, the caller ID flashing lovely amber eyes and a slightly rare, hesitant grin.

She knows she should pick up, he'll panic otherwise and she doesn't even want to think about what happens when he  _panics_ , no less a flurry of worried phone calls to an easily rustled Tomoyo.

Reluctantly she slides the green circle, and greets him as normally as possible. "Hey Sakura," he says and she can practically feel his anxiety drain out of his voice. "Where were you? I've called you three times already!"

She rolls her eyes because they've had this conversation before, that there's no point in him calling her multiple times within a span of a few minutes, because she's  _equally_  unlikely to hear each time.

But she elects not to say anything, because this is just one of his quirks, an abnormal need to know that she's  _safe_  – Really, what was going to happen to her? – all the time.

Besides, she has a soft spot for the little furrow that appears between his eyebrows when he worries.

"Home," she says, eager to get off the subject of her activities, "How was the meeting?"

He doesn't suspect anything, clearly tired and overworked at the end of the day, so he proceeds to tell her that the meeting was no trouble at all but he couldn't say the same of his less-than-pleasant elder sisters who show no mercy when it comes to teasing him.

"They found your picture in my wallet," he grumbles, by way of explanation when she asks why and she bursts out laughing, picturing an endless torrent of uninhibited taunts and an unhealthily red-faced Syaoran. "Great.  _You're_  laughing too."

She stifles her giggles and mollifies him saying, "Forget about them, Syao. Now tell me, when will you be back home?"

He hesitates for a moment, slightly regretful because he had told her he'd try to get done early but there was a ton of work here that still needed to be done.

"There's a lot of things left to do here, Sakura…"

"You've been gone for a  _week_ , Syao," she whines, because she hates these overseas business trips of his, they're too damn long and it's frustrating in this big, empty apartment without him.

"I'll be back by Saturday," he says softly and she's glad because Syaoran is one of those rare men who give a time and actually keep it.

"Okaayy," she acquiesces, "give me a kiss?"

She remembers when she started this silly habit, a memory of teenage years and long distance phone calls flitting through her mind.

"Sakura," he groans, complaining, but it's not from mortification as it used to be a few years ago. "If my sisters see this, I'll never be able to live it down…"

But he does it anyway, because if it's anything all these years with the green-eyed beauty has taught him, it is that he will do just about anything she asks, there's no use even  _trying_  otherwise.

Smiling, she kisses him back, nothing but a pointless noise over telecommunication but it's enough to make him linger, wanting to hold on to her voice a few minutes longer.

He hangs up though, eventually, because his youngest sister finds him in the balcony, gleefully shrieking to everyone about his 'dreamy-eyed' expression or whatever and he gets buried under an avalanche of embarrassment served up to him Li clan style.

She hangs up, giggling again at the antics of the his family and wonders for the thousandth time how her boyfriend, quiet and shy that he is, could belong to such a lively lineage.

Well, she was glad to hear he'd be back soon because she –

Wait.  _Saturday_?

Quickly she turns her attention back to the laptop, cheeks burning only slightly looking at the website she has open and checks the date. Valentine's Day was only four days away. On  _Saturday_. According to the website the delivery time was 2-3 working days…

She  _could_  manage it.

Bravely, she sifts through the contents of the rather bold website, amazed that there were services even catering to these interests… Amazed that people even  _had_ such interests to begin with and her eyes fall on a relatively tame piece consisting largely of black leather and bits of elastic and white lingerie.

Her cursor hovers over the 'Add to Cart' option and she hesitates, biting her lip nervously. Maybe she should have just asked Syaoran after all.

What if he doesn't like any of this to begin with?

But for all their midnight rumbles in the sack, her boyfriend had always encouraged sexual exploration even if he  _was_  rather shy to talk about it. So surely he'd be up for a little…  _Experimentation_?

It's not that she was bored of the sex per se, not at all actually, she was putty in his hands and is pretty sure she always will be, but it's all Tomoyo's fault, you see, she had given her this magazine, and it spoke of all these bedroom  _shenanigans_ , dark and romantic, the coloured pages smattered with images of regular implements and their, well, more  _creative_  uses. And she knew these magazines were all just bogus, their love advice stupid and impractical but some of the things written in that article made her flush deep crimson just thinking about it.

And Syaoran wasn't  _here_ , for her to even ask him about it, he was in Hong Kong with family and oh, she was so intrigued and excited, she was literally a fucking mess.

Which led to a quick check up with google-sensei on the culture of BDSM and one thing led to another, and she was on this site, a name too ridiculously embarrassing to write down here, looking at all these things, some in fascination and some in pure horror, and she was  _excited_.

"Yosh," she whispers, trying to breathe in some confidence, having clicked on the little black package, going with the simplest item on the site, because she doesn't know if she'll ever develop a taste for so much  _metal_ , "I can do this."

..

Normally, Sakura has the worst luck with online shopping, either it's late or a couple of sizes too big or it's delivered to her neighbour or  _something_. But this time thankfully there were no such goof ups – she can't imagine having to explain such sexual deviance to her 80 year old neighbour – and it was delivered promptly on time.

Which was a good thing because by the time Syaoran unlocks the door, a good twelve hours before he was actually scheduled to arrive, the black box is wrapped, all pretty with a white ribbon on top and hidden safely inside her wardrobe.

Unable to spend even a single day longer away from her, he had changed his tickets in the last moment, knowing that even if he lands up in the middle of the night, it still meant a few hours of sweet sleep, tangled in the sheets with Sakura. Now, it  _had_  been his plan to actually just go to  _sleep_ , curled up next to her, but walking in to see her dead to the world, the book she was lost in sprawled on her stomach, in nothing but an old shirt of his, his presumptuous thoughts of peaceful sleep flew promptly out the window.

Swiftly, he picks her up, pressing a warm, gentle kiss on her lips. She resists in her sleep and he pauses for a moment, because it really is cute that her self-defence kicks in even when she's barely conscious, but his lower half doesn't seem to be in the mood for his patient observations.

So he nips at her lips, forcefully this time, berating himself for being so shamelessly selfish but he can't help it. "Wake up, Sakura," he murmurs, and she  _does_ , eyes blinking open in a haze, slowly but obediently just like a snake would to its charmer.

"Hey," she smiles up at him sleepily, "you're back early."

He places her on the bed, and by the time she completely opens her eyes, blinking away her grogginess to actually comprehend the situation, he is on top of her, kissing her, his tongue sweet and dizzying in her mouth, effectively making her forget all pretence of pleasantry. She tangles back into him, hands threading into his hair, mumbling in between kisses that she had missed him, and he apologises for being away for so long in his own way, hands forcing open the buttons of a shirt that is far too large for her, making her look even more vulnerable than she actually is.

It is this thought, this vulnerability still so evident on her gentle features that slows him down a little, wondering if he's being too rough with her.

But he should have known by now that his princess likes it rough, likes it when he is urgent and uncontrolled, driven solely by a deep-seated need for her, because she wraps her hands around his neck, pulling his head closer and meeting his mouth in wet, open mouthed kisses.

Within moments he is nudging her legs open with his knee and his eyes widen when he feels her wetness against his skin, amplified by her apparent lack of underwear. "Sakura," he admonishes, but it's so low, his tone betrays that he is more turned on than angry. "You can't sleep like this when you're alone in the house. It isn't  _safe_ " –

He groans, cut off by the incomparable sensation of her warmth, wet and tight around him, effectively stealing his words from him.

She thrusts her hips upwards again, punctured gasps spilling from her own mouth as she takes him in further and whispers, " _This is what happens when you go away for so long_."

..

She wakes up in her most favourite way, with his arms wrapped firmly around her, his warmth enveloping her completely. She sighs, thinking contentedly that she could stay like this forever, happy and blissfully in love.

But as much as she would love to wallow in the emotional joy of being close to her boyfriend, she had just remembered one very important fact.

It was Valentine's Day.

It was finally time to give him The Present.

Excitedly, she makes to get off the bed, eager to give it to him but she is trapped in the comfortable prison of his arms.

_Just how can someone have such a vice grip even in their sleep?_

Luckily for Sakura, she had long since devised more creative methods to wake her lover from his slumber. Usually she would have a wide range of options to choose from but today she was locked in position, with only her back facing him.

Stifling a giggle, she wiggles her hips backward, rubbing against him, finding a part of him that is definitely  _far_  more eager to get up than the rest of him. She moves relentlessly, her athletic body producing movements that would make even Miley Cyrus blush.

As ridiculous as the whole thing is, it works, because he is stirred into awareness, his hands retracting to her hips, subconsciously enjoying this source of friction. But he protests anyway, mumbling for her to stop and she doesn't know whether he wants her to stop moving or whether he wants her to stop trying to get away. She decides on the latter because she can feel him pressing into the crack of her bottom and it's all she can do to bite back a slight gasp.

No, she will  _not_ let him know that this, in fact, turning her on. Majorly.

"Syaoran," she says firmly, "let me go. I need to," –

Abruptly he shifts, pinning her beneath him, stealing her lips with a decisively  _good_ morning kiss.

Reflexively, she gives into his kiss, almost responding fully before she remembers. She is a woman on a mission.

"Mmm," she tries to break away from his irresistible mouth, "It's Valentine's Day, I"-

He silences her again, she should really just stop trying so hard. "No."

"I wanted to  _give you something," –_

He nips on her lower lip, irritated that she's still trying to talk instead of just kissing him back. "No."

"But I need to get up," –

" _No_."

Desperate, she seeks her last resort, knowing that it's sneaky and underhanded but she has no other choice. "You have morning breath," she says, an obvious lie, voice nothing more than a squeak, effectively trembling under the power of his kiss.

He stills, eyes widening, he tears away immediately, flopping disgruntledly on the pillows, mouth curling into what he'd like to think is a scowl, but in reality it's just Syaoran's version of pouting, and Sakura secretly thinks it's  _cute_.

"Close your eyes," she says, trouncing off the bed, heading towards her closet. Knowing that she would wait all day till he actually listened to her and closed his damn eyes, he does as she says, hands obediently covering his eyes.

Slowly, he can feel her pulling his hand off, admonishing him when he peeks open, "Keep them closed, mister," threading her fingers through his other hand and pulling it down to his lap so that both his hands lay on his lap together.

He hears the soft click of metal, biting into his skin ever so slightly and he opens his eyes anyway. Looking down at his lap, his mouth goes almost completely dry.

"Did you just," he asks, slowly, disbelievingly, voice hoarse because this is something straight out of his teenage fantasies. "… Handcuff me?"

She grins, looking mighty well pleased with herself and he notices that in the time that he had his eyes closed, she had donned something that he is pretty sure is supposed to be lingerie, but it's so slight, so flimsy, it could have been nothing at all.

It's white, and delicate, and it's covered with the most ridiculous little bows, barely existent panties strung together with nothing more than two simple ties at each side.

He could literally tug it off with his  _teeth_.

And he  _would_ , except he's come to understand the downfall of this particular fantasy of his as he surveys the metal contraption firm around his wrists, because he wants to reach out and grab her, trace his fingers over her curves and slowly, patiently unwrap his  _present_ , but he can't.

She leans down to kiss him, slowly, chaste almost, nothing more than a light brush of her lips against his, teasing him, tempting him to reach out for more. Slowly, she saunters away from him and he notices the way her hips sway, the motion markedly more exaggerated than usual.

"What do you think, Syaoran?" She asks, fingering the halter tie of her bra coyly, "Do you like it?"

He knows her well enough to realise this is all just part of her game, clearly distinguishing the fake saccharine sweetness of her voice. He wants to laugh because this maybe the cheesiest thing  _ever_  but he's enjoying this. From the fake tone of voice, to the exaggerated look of innocence on her already child-like features... if Sakura wanted to  _play_  then he would be more than willing.

"Yeah," he growls, a sound low and deep in his throat, "but I'd rather have you without it."

She seems to contemplate this, an amused twinkle in her emerald eyes as her hand slides down her neck, slow and deliberate, tracing a trail quite familiar to Syaoran as it lightly skims the skin between her breasts. "Is that so?" She continues, feigning nonchalance as she pushes the slight fabric delicately to the side, revealing a round, pink nipple. "Well I don't really think you're in a position to be making demands are you?" She asks sweetly, fingers gently circling the puffed up peak.

Amber pools widen, darkening licentiously at her audacious play. He has seen her naked,  _touched_  her, toyed mercilessly with that very same tempting nipple,  _countless_  times before.

But watching Sakura play with herself…  _Oh boy, that was a real sight to behold_.

He watches, fascinated as her fingers dance lightly, over her pale, flawless skin, touching herself exactly where he so desperately wants to touch. But where her hands brush lightly, flowing over her body tantalisingly, he wants to hold her roughly, pinning her down, bruising her with his teeth, making her gasp in that delicious way she had.

Before he can even realise it, he is raising his hips impatiently, clumsily due to his inability to grip anything, against the soft fabric of the blanket and it's not enough, just watching isn't  _enough_ , he needs friction, needs her to  _touch_  him, because he can't even touch himself.

He wonders if this is what the concept of repentance is all about because he's suddenly extremely sorry for every time he's ever teased her.

She catches on to his feeble attempts, realizing his ploys to find some sort of release and shakes her head softly. "Oh come on, Syao, you know that isn't allowed," she murmurs, careful to keep her tone idle and teasing because when she whips off the blanket, her breath catches in her throat at the sight of him, flushed and slick, straining in response to her actions.

He colours, face heating up at being found out, embarrassed at his helpless state. But when he sees a finger brush deliberately over a damp spot in the sheer fabric of her panties, he groans, the sound of a tortured man driven to the very edge of frustration. "You don't play fair, Sakura."

She crawls onto the bed, bending low, making sure to give him an eyeful as she makes her way onto his lap. He hisses out, a deep exhale as her heat comes into contact with his erection, jerking up impatiently to get more contact. He doesn't care anymore if he looks desperate, if his body moves of its own shameless volition, because he's caught, completely at her bidding.

She laughs, a hoarse breathy note and it sounds forced because even she knows she's just as affected by this as he is, far more so than she had planned. He catches her mouth in a kiss, tugging at her lips greedily, because he's determined to have at least her mouth, completely his, surrendering to his relentless invasion.

She hums as her hips move in time with the dizzying sweep of his tongue, gripping his shoulders and rubbing deliciously against his length, giving in so entirely to the addictive feel of him that she is this close to coming apart and he's barely even  _touched_  her.

It isn't till she feels the cold metal scrape against her skin that she stills, lifting herself off of him, remembering that this game was  _far_  from over.

"It's okay, Syaoran," she breathes, relishing his helpless, open mouthed panting as his mouth reaches for her, only for her to duck just out of his reach. "Anticipation makes everything sweeter."

But looking at him, dark amber swirls molten with heat, he literally growls, ready to swear at her in a string of Chinese, because, "Get back here, Sakura."  _And finish what you fucking started_.

She's conscious enough to recognise the tone of warning in his voice and it sends electric shivers lancing through her spine, exciting instead of scaring her. So she reaches for her little black box, pulling something else out of it that he can't really make out and seconds later it doesn't even matter because she's reaching forward, raising herself slightly to angle it on to him, and he takes this opportunity to bend down and catch her nipple with his teeth, circling the taut skin with his tongue.

It's enough to make her gasp because she wasn't expecting it, pulling on the black fabric abruptly, shutting off his line of sight, making him clamp down hard on her sensitive slopes abruptly.

" _Ah_ ," she moans, not knowing how even though she has him restrained and blindfolded, she's still the one quivering so helplessly under his ministrations.

"What the hell?" He curses, frustrated because he can hear cry out brokenly, he can  _feel_ her, body still so close, lithe curves still his for the taking but he can't see her, can't watch her pupils dilate to thin emerald rings, can't take in the way her tongue sweeps at her parted lips when it turns dry with anticipation.

"Sakura," he pleads, not caring how weak he sounds, how desperate and  _needy_  his voice is, because he can  _feel_  her slink away, the sweet pressure on his lap suddenly dissipating away from him, and he can't help but feel devastatingly bereft.

..

All of a sudden, she finds herself on her back, pushed into the mattress and she doesn't know how in the world that happened – "I thought I was the one in control here," she whispers breathlessly, and that did seem the case, when just moments ago she had him completely at her mercy, the taste of his arousal salty and heavy on her tongue, sucking, laving at his length, gleefully denying his pleas of "Sakura,  _please_."

Looking into dark amber flickers, she realises it's kind of pathetic because she doesn't sound like  _she's_  the one in control, her voice nothing more than a meek, trembling observation. "Y-you're hands," she whispers, half in awe and half in excitement. He gazes at her darkly, shrugging off her surprise. "Are you talking about  _this_?" He gestures at his hands, the leather straps of the handcuffs lying torn and limp from the edges. "Surely you didn't think this little thing was going to  _stop_  me, did you?"

Dazedly, she wonders why she even bothered with this entire charade, she  _likes_  menacing, forceful Syaoran,  _likes_  when he looks at her like she can try whatever the hell she likes but there's no way she can  _escape_  him, even more than she likes him pleading.

"Know this, Sakura," he murmurs, deep and low, and all of a sudden her vision is obscured. She can feel the weight of leather covering her eyes, thick and heavy, and she knows this is retribution she so rightly deserves because she can't  _see_  the dangerous gleam in his eyes which has her so hot and bothered.

His lips graze hers as he speaks, making her shiver and she is a ball of sensation, so acutely aware of Syaoran's  _every_  movement.

" _You were only in control because I let you_."

She reaches for the band, desperate to push it off, because this is new and foreign, she can't see anything, only feel, warm, tormentous sensations of his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. Swiftly, he takes both of her hands and pulls them above her head, keeping them locked firmly in a single palm of his. "I-I can't see," she mumbles, writhing under his unshakeable hold over her body, nerves clenching wonderfully as his teeth scrape the sensitive underside of her breasts.

"That would be the point," he says and his breath tickles the raw, sensitised peaks on her chest. "This is  _my_  present," he says, the raw note of possession sending shivers, deep down to her pit of arousal, and  _oh_ , the famed sex voice has reared it's head.

"So  _I_  get what  _I_  want."

Meekly, she accepts defeat knowing that she conditions of power play have been irrevocably reversed, her brief stint on top having come to a definite close – but she doesn't mind. This is what he's good at and she is more than ready to accept the havoc he wreaks on her body.

He tugs at her lips, opening her mouth for him, kissing her harshly, ready to make her pay for the state she reduced him to.

It's good, these kisses, and after spending so much time away from him, she could swear she lives for them alone, but being with Syaoran has made her so very  _greedy_ , demanding, even, because she knows how much  _more_  he can give her and she wants all of it.

"Syaoran, I want," –

"You're not really in a position to be making demands, are you?" He whispers, quoting her from earlier, fingers stroking up her opening because he wants her begging, pleading, wants her to know that if she's going to venture into the world of dominance, he is more than willing to show her how it's done.

"Please," she breathes as he continues to slip in and out of her, tracing leisure circles through her wetness. She can barely tell what's going on, her sensation of touch amplified by her inability to see, only able to feel the warm imprint of his breath caressing her heat. Eager for release, she raises her hips upward, only to be held back down firmly by his strong grip.

"There's no hurry, Sakura," he murmurs, "what did you say? Anticipation makes everything sweeter, is it?" She makes a small noise of complaint, evidently unhappy with her words being used against her, but when his tongue dips into her wet heat, slow and torturous, it dissolves into nothing more than a shaky, drawn out gasp and she is ready, so ready to give him anything he wants, just as long as he stops  _playing_  with her.

" _Syaoran_ ," she whimpers, and it's a sound so broken, so needy, he has never heard anything that could drive him so out of control. He drives his fingers roughly into her once more, wanting,  _needing_  to hear her desperation for him, running his tongue over her pink, swollen bud of arousal, spoiling it,  _loving_  how sensitive she is to his touch.

He gets what he wants, a helpless cry escaping her small, parted mouth, overwhelmed under his assault, because Syaoran, you see, doesn't do something as ordinary as go down on someone.

He  _makes love_  with his mouth.

And Sakura can feel herself quicken, insides tightening deliciously in immediate obedience to his ruthless ravishment of her senses, hands itching to touch him, to tangle in his hair and pull him even closer, but somehow when she was lost in the waves of pleasure wracking her body, he had managed to slip the handcuffs on to her wrists, tying the damaged piece of leather fabric in a firm knot.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, aware that Sakura is less than a second away from glorious release but with every breathless gasp and subconscious thrust of her hips upward against him, he strains painfully, slick and throbbing against his abdomen.

Running his eyes over the sight of her, squirming under his hold, mouth swollen and parted, begging him to stop stalling, he begins to truly understand the pleasure of control, the idea of having someone completely under your mercy, undeniably in your possession and it makes him twitch, his lower half eager to comply with her vocal demands.

He reaches up to kiss her, wet and messy, her glistening arousal evident on his eager mouth. But she doesn't care, she likes it, likes that even  _she_  can taste sweet on his tongue, likes that his mission is no longer just to drive her crazy with want, he is  _this_  close to crumbling, himself.

"Sakura," he groans longingly, when she brushes up against him, wet heat slick against his hardness, tempting him to forget about these silly games of power and control, that the small little minx may be naked and trussed up in front of him, but he will always,  _always_  give in to her, how much ever he pretends otherwise.

Hurriedly, he tugs at the knot of her restraints, letting her hands free, because he wants her touching him, wants her pulling at his hair in frustration, wants to feel her nails scraping at his back when he is so unrelentingly rough with her.

"Syao," - she begins, frantically reaching to touch him, to angle herself for better contact, but the rest of her words dissolve into a helpless squeak, as he sinks into her, hard and full, and without warning, a low, hoarse groan, ripping from his throat.

He flips her onto her knees, driving into her from behind, dropping rough, grazing kisses on the smooth, pale skin of her back because he knows that even though he loves nothing more than to watch her come apart in his arms, there's no way he would have lasted if he sees the faces she makes, even though he's memorised them, teeth catching at her lips, struggling to rein in her loud cries, every little inch of her body, begging him to give the pleasure she craves so much.

He can feel her shiver, tightening subconsciously around him, arching back as she calls his name, reverent and broken on her lips as she rides out the waves of her pleasure, falling almost limply, held up only by the firm weight of his strong hands bruising tight around her hips, driving into her so thoroughly that when he shudders, giving in to his own ecstasy, she shatters again, falling helplessly into another endless spiral of rapture.

It's all he can do to not collapse on her, crushing her small frame, with his much larger, exhausted one, moving gingerly on to his side, his harsh panting audibly loud in their bedroom.

"Did you," she asks weakly, pausing to catch her breath, "like your present?"

He grunts in reply, a small, otherwise incoherent noise of communication that Sakura has learnt to interpret as approval.

"I got you something too," he mumbles,  _not_  making a move to get up.

He regrets saying it the moment the words slip out of his mouth because, she's up in an instant, her sexual fatigue having evaporated into thin air, eyes shining at the very hint of the word 'Present'.

Usually this childlike enthusiasm of hers is something he finds exceptionally endearing, but she's looking at him expectantly, like she actually wants him to  _move_ , when all he wants to do is bask in the afterglow of pure, unadulterated, mind-blowing morning sex that they just had. In other words, go to sleep.

 _Really. Is that too much for a guy to ask_?

Reaching for the shirt he had so carelessly tossed aside when he joined her in bed last night, she shrugs it on, leaving it open. She climbs on to him, seating herself comfortably on the planes of his hard abdomen. "What did you get me?"

Normally, the sight of her perched on top of him, the shirt barely concealing the swell of her breasts, her rounded bottom less than an inch from his usually alert member, would have been enough to get him aroused all over again but she wants to know about this present of hers and that is a delicate subject.

"Well how about we get up, get dressed and then I give it to you?"

It sounds like a good enough idea to her because the morning activities have left her famished but she hears hesitation in his voice, something that's detectable only by Sakura because in all the years she's spent by his side, she's learnt to read every single nuance, every slight gesture of his body, each otherwise inaudible tremor in his voice,  _perfectly_.

So she knows fully well that he's just stalling. This only piques her curiosity even further so she presses on. "Where is it?"

"Sakura," he starts, ready to persuade her that it's nothing that can't wait an hour or two but she's noticed his nervous, ever-so-slight tilt of his head towards the bedside table and her eyes gleam, gleefully pleased that she's discovered his secret.

Swiftly, she pulls open the draw and sure enough there's a small little red package inside, looking the complete Valentine's Day package, big red bow and everything and she squeals in delight.

"Hey," he says, with trepidation, attempting to snatch the little box away from her, a cold, nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Nuh-uh. This is my present right? So I get to open it!"

"No, wait, it's not," he says frantically but his words fall on deaf ears as she eagerly unwraps the pretty packaging.

She opens the box and she finds a small, platinum ring, tip shining brightly with one dainty diamond, encrusted in a halo of even tinier emeralds.

Not for the first time today, her breath catches in her throat, because it's so breathtakingly beautiful, she doesn't even know what to say.

"Wow," she murmurs breathlessly, "it's gorgeous, Syaoran!"

Watching her face light up in pure wonder, he's caught all over again,  _almost_  forgetting that this is playing out  _completely_  wrong.

 _Shit_ , he thinks, the feeling of screwing up weighing deadly heavy in the pit of his stomach. There was protocol to this. There was supposed to be flowers and going down on one knee and a speech that he had rehearsed a million times in his head, down to the very last word.

But reality, as he had just realised, had a tendency to be painfully cruel.

"Syao," she asks curiously, the ring now sitting firmly on her left ring finger, "is this a diamond?"

He nods, weakly, having resigned himself to the inevitable realisation that he has, without doubt, fucked this up in the worst possible way.

"And this? Is this platinum?"

Another nod, this time wondering why in the world this knowledge was of relevance, because this was supposed to a proposal goddammit, except the ring obviously wouldn't speak the words, and his mouth was struck with temporary muteness.

She furrows her eyebrows, eyes fixed on the jewellery nestled on her finger. "This must have been  _really_  expensive, Syaoran."

It isn't disapproval, or approval for that matter, just hesitance, because she really,  _really_  doesn't think Valentine's Day warrants such an ostentatious gesture.

"You don't like it?" He mumbles, and finally she lifts her eyes to his, anxiety evident in his deep amber pools.

"No," she cries, rushing to clear up any possible misunderstanding, because it's downright beautiful, "I love it!"

She pauses, not knowing how to word it. "It's just… Don't you think it's a little  _too much_?"

He stares at her, wanting to laugh because he should've known that his girlfriend, in all her twenty-five years of worldly wisdom, is still as clueless as she was the first time he had walked into her classroom all those years ago.

"It isn't," he says gently, because here he is, ready to promise her the  _world_  and the ring vastly dulls in comparison.

She looks at him confused, and he sighs, realising it's about time he says something because even though she's happily pulled on the ring and he can take its significance literally, he figures she deserves a word of warning before she commits her entire lifetime to him.

"It's an  _engagement_  ring, Sakura."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, so I was feeling kind of shitty cuz motivation had completely abandoned me, especially when it came to this ship, but V-day came around and I was struck with the worst case of OTP feels.
> 
> I'm sorry if this was too explicit or kind of forced.
> 
> Anyway, Happy Valentine's everyone! AS always, comments, criticism, and ideas/motivation are ALWAYS welcome.


	3. Good Morning Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written on request for an anon on Tumblr for the prompt good morning kiss.

 

“… Aizawa-san, Tomoyuki-san, Kimio-kun… Aaaaand done! I think we’re finally done with the responses,” she says happily, stacking the envelopes at the corner of the table. 

“… Congratulations,” he quips, dryly, scanning the long list of names, “We’ve successfully invited our entire Undergrad class, people from Daidouji’s department, the entire cheer team, music choir, and a whole host of other people who I can’t even remember.”

“Oh, don’t be a sourpuss, Syao,” she says, swiping the list of invitees from his hand and folding it away, far from his critical gaze, “besides, it was  _your_ mother who absolutely insisted that she wanted a large wedding.”

And while Sakura’s definition of a large wedding involved only friends and family whom they knew on a first name basis, Syaoran’s mother seemed absolutely scandalized at the thought of less than 300 hundred invitees and the lack of paparazzi at her one and only son’s wedding.

“And I’ve told you over, and over, that we don’t need to listen to everything she says.”

“… Yeah right,” she snorts, “… I’ll believe that, the day  _you_  actually start following your own advice.”

Ignoring her jibe completely, he props up the pillows and calls, “Just come to bed Sakura, it’s 3 AM for God’s sake! My mother’s wedding plans can wait till daylight.”

He turns to look at her, just as she stretches, long limbs stretching gracefully, small, pink lips trying to stifle a yawn, the strap of her white camisole slipping down her shoulder and -  _Fuck._

It had just been two weeks and he was already staring at his girlfriend - no,  _Fiance_ \- like a street lecher.

“… Calm down, Syaoran,” he mutters, more to the rising bulge in his sweats, than anyone else, hiding it artfully under the sheets.

“Honestly, this is more tiring than I’d thought,” she mumbles, slipping under the covers next to him.

“You’re getting too stressed out,” he murmurs into, draping a hand over her hip possessively. “… This wedding is supposed to be about  _us,_ ” his hands move to caress the curve of her waist, tracing soft, soothing circles across her back, “… not what  _someone_ else wants.”

“But she’s,” her breath hitches when his lips drift across her nape, “ _your Mom_ , I want to make her - Ah _, Syaoran_ ,” - his teeth nip at her ear, her last word nothing more than a soft whine, “…  _happy._ ”

His hands grow bolder, inching under her camisole, splaying across her ribs. “… Turn around, Sakura,” he whispers, his voice husky.

She panics. She knows what he’s planning, what he  _wants._  "Syaoran,“ she starts, hesitant, wary - because It doesn’t help that she wants it  _too_  - "We promised there would be no… that we wouldn’t” - he’s pulling her onto her side anyway, to face him -

“Oh, you know what your mother says! It’s bad luck to… to do  _it_ before the wedding!”

“… I know,” he tries not to grumble because even though he  _did_  know about this ridiculous, superstition that required abstinence for the  _ENTIRE period from the Engagement to the wedding_  - his mother had made sure he was aware via an extremely awkward, painful skype conversation that involved Syaoran turning the brightest shade of red that Sakura had ever seen on him - “… I just want to look at you, Sakura,” he murmurs, brushing the hair out of her eyes, his fingers resting at her cheekbones.

Maybe he definitely did want to do a lot more than just looking, but he doesn’t say it, and he tries not to think it, but it’s futile anyway.

“… Am I at least allowed to kiss you?” he murmurs softly, amber eyes drifting to her parted mouth. No, she thinks definitely, no, but he’s so close and he smells so good and it’s not like they laid out fixed boundaries on what they can and can’t do and - “..  _Yes,”_ she breathes, quickly,  _too quickly,_ too eager to take what he so keenly offers, “J-just a Good night kiss, okay?”

He doesn’t waste this opportunity, he kisses her without delay, without pretense, tongue sweeping across her lower lip and demanding entry into her mouth. Her fingers clutch at his hair as she gasps for breath, as he pins her beneath him with purpose, long body pressed against her smaller, tinier frame, his desire obvious as he presses into her.

She’s not sure how the atmosphere’s changed so suddenly - from soft and polite, to frantic - mouths wet and messy against each other, body rubbing against his, his knee between her legs, giving her the friction that her body asks for.

When he pulls away, he’s far from satisfied but at least a little bit appeased. He finds her short of breath, flushed and maybe, just  _maybe_ the same kind of uncomfortable that he is. “T-that wasn’t a good night kiss,” she accuses, not sounding the  _least_ bit accusatory or the least bit like a complaint. There is satisfaction to be obtained from the knowledge that she is just affected by this as he is, that she  _wants_ this just as much.

He flops onto his back, trying to control his own breathing, a smug grin growing on his face. “You’re right,” he gestures at the clock across the room nonchalantly, now showing 4 AM, “it’s a good  _morning_  kiss.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Feel free to hit me up with any other requests. ^_^

**Author's Note:**

> A/N : Tbh, I have no idea where this came from. :P
> 
> Tell me what you guys think.
> 
> Review or talk to me at ramblingpug.tumblr.com


End file.
